


Masquerade

by VOlympianlove



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Love Confessions, M/M, Party, Prince Kim Junmyeon | Suho, Prince Zhang Yi Xing | Lay, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:40:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27758557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VOlympianlove/pseuds/VOlympianlove
Summary: Some might count Yixing unlucky for having to suffer through the humiliation of twisting his ankle in the middle of a dance but he certainly would not consider himself unlucky at all. Not when that unfortunate accident brought his two loves back into his life, in the most beautiful way possible.
Relationships: Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Wu Yi Fan | Kris/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31
Collections: Round 1 of Tales of the Lotus Fest





	Masquerade

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up being more slice of life ish than I intended to but it's just a short one. I haven't written short fic in so long i forgot what it felt like! Also in case it isn't clear enough, Junmyeon is ace in this. Just a little nod to the community. I might add a bonus scene exploring their sex life if I'm feeling up to it! Enjoy!

The orchestral strings poured out the moment the doors were opened, filling Yixing’s ears. An array of colours blinded him, a group of ladies dressed in jewel-toned gowns fluttering their lashes at him as he tried to pass.

A gentleman winked at him from behind a ruby-encrusted fan, a lock of crimson streaked hair falling over the edge of his mask. Yixing smiled awkwardly behind his own mask. He touched the blue lace that obscured half his face, tipping his head in greeting.

The chandeliers gleamed, light dancing off the multitude of crystals and casting beautiful shadows on the faces of the people around him.

Yixing tugged at the sleeves of his sky blue robes, the earlier insecurity fading away as he surveyed the partygoers. His mother had insisted on a traditional _hanfu_ , the embroidery rich with imagery and gold.

Red-capped cranes danced on the fabric as he moved, almost as if they were flying. He straightened when a man drifted past in full black robes so dark they swallowed light, a real snake coiled around his shoulders. A lady parted the crowds, a pet leopard snarling at passers-by as she made her way across the room.

Yixing had to look away when white skin flashed through the high slit in her dress. A smile was directed his way and the leopard even stopped snarling for a moment to butt its head into Yixing’s hand.

He petted it gently, scratching its ears. The lady touched his shoulder, offering her hand. A dance card fluttered from her wrist, secured with a crimson ribbon.

“Perhaps a dance, milord?” she asked, a shadow materializing at her elbow to take the leash of her leopard. He offered Yixing a feathered quill which he took, bowing politely.

Yixing signed his name on her card, noting the multiple signatures already written on the cream coloured paper.

He scribbled a note onto his own card before returning the quill, bowing at the waist until the lady had passed. Thankfully, her card was nearly full and he had missed the waltz and tango by at least four names.

Yixing wandered through the crowds, half-heartedly listening to the chatter that always happened at balls. He helped someone who had pitifully twisted their ankle to a futon before their partner arrived with a fan, ice and full of gratitude before finding his way to the banquet table.

The rosé was much sweeter than he liked, his nose wrinkling under the mask. He had just set his glass down when a man touched his elbow.

“May I have the first dance?” The voice was familiar, rich and deep but Yixing could not place him. He was strikingly tall, his features hidden behind a black mask lined with tufted feathers.

Onyx stones gleamed at the mask’s edge, catching the light. The man’s eyes were like pools of golden honey, piercing straight into Yixing’s soul.

Yixing sucked in a sharp breath, nodding as he offered his wrist. The hand that took it was large and warm and It distracted him enough that he did not think to read the name on the card.

The man’s lips quirked and Yixing’s knees turned to jelly. He could not remember the last time he had been so affected by anyone.

“I’ll see you when the dance begins.”

With a parting wave, Yixing’s hand was released and he could breathe again. He leaned back against the table, ignoring the scandalized gasp of someone near him to whip out his fan, hiding his face behind it.

His eyes followed the man’s swirling black robes, embroidered with a golden dragon with ruby eyes that almost seemed to wink at him from across the room.

Turning, Yixing poured himself another glass of rosé. His fingertips tapped on the table as he drained his glass, far too quickly to be polite. His poor mother would have a heart attack if she could have seen him.

He set down the glass, drifting towards the open balcony window. The air was chilly, seeping into his skin despite the robes. Yixing shivered, drawing his robes tighter around his body as he stepped out further into the night.

The stars glimmered in the sky, a ray of moonlight casting down onto his face. He leaned forward, resting his hands on the smooth marble of the balcony, allowing his magic to fan out, slowly absorbing the moonlight into his skin.

“I’m sorry to interrupt.”

Yixing’s eyes snapped open and he spun around, the tugging in his gut vanishing at once.

The man who stood in the doorway was beautiful, his mask made of silvery mother of pearl. Little spheres of pearl marked the edges of his cheeks and specks of green and blue mica gleamed on his skin.

Yixing stared, entranced.

“You left your fan at the table,” the man said, holding out the blue silk fan that Yixing had used after his encounter with the first name on his dance card. “I thought you might want it back.”

“Thank you,” Yixing said, taking the fan. Their fingers brushed when he closed them around the hilt of the fan and a spark jumped against his skin.

“If- if your card isn’t full, perhaps we could dance?” he stuttered, eyes flicking down to the blue card hanging on the mystery man’s wrist.

“I would love to,” the man beamed, holding out his hand. Yixing signed his name with a flourish, hardly daring to breathe when he realised that the man would be his second dance of the night.

The first strains of music for the first dance floated from the ballroom and a shadowy figure emerged from the doorway. Yixing looked up, a slow smile spreading across his lips when he realized who it was.

“Hello again.” The deep voice vibrated straight through him and Yixing was gratified to see he was not the only one affected when the other man shivered.

“I don’t mean to steal him away, but he’s promised his first dance to me,” the man said, extending his hand.

“Oh, that’s alright. His second is mine,” came the cheeky comment.

The man with the dragon smirked, fingers tightening around Yixing’s hand.

“Then I shall claim his third,” he purred, “and perhaps one with you, sea prince.”

The sea prince laughed, a musical sound and shook his head. The night wind ruffled his hair and in the moonlight, Yixing could see the faintest blue tinge to the dark locks.

“As you wish.” He swept into a low bow, robes fluttering. “If you don’t mind me claiming his fourth.”

Yixing blinked, mildly confused as the two men signed each other’s cards. He was fairly certain he had met them both before, listening to their voices but the masks distorted their image and it was impossible to place them.

“Shall we?” the man with the dragon asked, extending his arm for Yixing to take. The sleeve of his shirt was a lovely silk, slippery like water under his fingers when Yixing took it. He cast an apologetic look in the sea prince’s direction before he was being whisked away into the ballroom.

The proximity made Yixing’s breath hitch. The dance was a waltz, almost too intimate. A large hand wrapped around his side, the man tilting his head down to look at him. Yixing laced their fingers together, relaxing into the hold as the music started up.

The man’s shoulder was broad and warm under his fingertips, the silk soft under his skin. He was all too aware of honey coloured eyes tracing his face, taking in his expression.

For the second time that night, Yixing was glad that he was wearing a mask. His partner was a wonderful dancer and a very strong lead, moving gracefully across the dance floor.

Many heads turned when Yixing was spun, whispers floating through the air like his robes when he twirled, falling into step with his partner.

“They say your dancing is beautiful,” his dance partner whispered when they pressed in close again, so close that his breath brushed over Yixing’s lips.

A wave of familiarity swept over Yixing again. He could have sworn this had happened before. A tall man with golden eyes holding him. A voice so deep it reverberated through him.

“You’re a wonderful dancer too,” he answered, mind whirling as he tried to remember who he could possibly have been so intimate with.

“Thank you,” his partner rumbled with a smile. Yixing smiled back, still distracted. He sidestepped, allowing himself to be twirled again.

The music swirled all around him, like a veil blocking both of them from the rest of the world. Every look into the man’s golden eyes made Yixing shiver. Those eyes were so piercing.

“Have we met before?” he asked when they danced the final steps, catching the sea prince hovering on the edge of his peripheral vision.

“It does seem so,” his partner said slowly, “the way you dance, it reminds me of…”

He trailed off and Yixing never managed to find out who he was reminded of before the music changed and the sea prince was swooping in, mica scales sparkling in the light.

“Apologies for cutting in,” he said, his voice smooth like honey, “ but I believe his second dance is mine.”

Yixing bowed with a flourish, releasing the man’s hand. The dragon prince smiled back, but it was almost unsure now. He stared after them as the sea prince twirled Yixing away, eyes burning into Yixing’s back.

He tried to shake the strange feeling as the second dance started up. His feet moved almost on autopilot, spinning and stepping to the music, his eyes drawn up to his partner’s concealed face.

Perhaps the prince was trying to identify him as well, as his brown eyes searched Yixing’s face. Realization dawned in his gaze but Yixing still could not place him. He took a step to the right, realizing his error too late when he tripped over his partner’s foot.

“Oh!” Yixing cried out when his foot turned, a blinding pain shooting up his ankle. He staggered, swearing under his breath. If only he had worn his heavier boots. Those would have protected him but with the thin satin shoes his mother insisted on, his ankle began to swell.

“Are you alright?” his partner gasped, catching him before he could fall.

“I’ve- I think I’ve sprained my ankle,” Yixing gritted out, gripping his partner’s arm so tightly that he was sure he left bruises.

A figure pushed through the crowd just as the sea prince opened his mouth to speak. It was the dragon prince, lips pinched in concern.

“Here, help me take him outside,” he said in his gravelly voice. Yixing grabbed for him when he took a step, cursing out loud. His mother would certainly hear of this now.

The sea prince vanished the moment he was settled onto a plush velvet chair, his foot propped up on the matching ottoman. The velvet was soft and cool against his hot ankle and he could not help but slump against the chair back, grimacing when the dragon prince prodded the swelling with a gentle hand.

“You haven’t changed at all, have you? Still as clumsy as ever,” the prince said, an amused tone to his voice. Yixing blinked, his breath catching in his throat when he reached up, the black mask falling away to reveal the face of the man who used to court him.

“Yi-Yifan,” he gaped, his heart tripping in his chest. By complete instinct, he shoved his right hand into his pocket, trying to hide the opal bracelet Yifan had given him as a courting gift but Yifan had already seen it.

“You still wear it,” Yifan said, taking Yixing’s hand. Yixing faltered, biting down hard on his lip. He had no words. How could he explain the mess of jumbled feelings that he had shoved down to the very pit of his mind, locked away in a little box? Why he had called off the courtship, shattering Yifan’s heart in the process?

The look of hope on Yifan’s face only made his insides twist uncomfortably. He tugged his hand away, turning his head away.

“It was expensive,” he said vaguely, “I’d be foolish not to.”

It was a stupid excuse. His family had so many jewels that this one would not be missed. Neither would the one he wore on a chain around his throat. But Yixing still could not find the words to explain himself to Yifan.

He was relieved to see the sea prince making his way towards them, a bag of ice clutched in his elegant hand.

“Wu Yifan,” the prince said in surprise when he reached them, “don’t you have a dance?”

Yifan shrugged his shoulders, brows creasing.

“They did not show,” he said, taking the ice from the prince’s hand.

Yixing exhaled in relief when the ice bag was set over his swollen ankle, slouching back against the velvet chair. He resolutely would not look at Yifan, turning his attention instead to the mystery prince.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, “I did not mean to-.”

“No harm done. Well, except-.” The prince gestured to Yixing’s ankle, lips curving into a wry smile. He reached up, unfastening his mask and Yixing’s heart stopped for the second time that night.

“I didn’t mean to trip you,” Kim Junmyeon said quietly, “or deceive you for so long.”

“You- you knew it was me,” Yixing stammered, shell shocked. He had not expected to dance with any, much less _two_ of his exes in the same night.

Junmyeon pointed at the moonstone ring that hung around Yixing’s neck, teeth clamping down on his lower lip.

“Your jewellery.”

Yixing cursed aloud, fingers flying to grasp the ring. He did not know where to look, not with both his ex-lovers staring at him with those eyes.

“I did not know you valued it so much,” Junmyeon said, sinking to his knees beside Yixing’s ankle. “You turned me away so abruptly.”

“That’s not unusual,” Yifan snorted, but it was a sad sound. “He did the same to me.”

Yixing went bright red, heat rushing up his cheeks. He dug his fingers into the fabric of his robes, wishing for the thousandth time that he had skipped the ball. No amount of finery and nagging from his mother could have convinced him that this was worth it.

“I- I have a dance,” he said quickly, “the sixth dance-.”

“You can barely walk and you want to dance?” Yifan asked, rolling his eyes. He poked a finger gingerly at Yixing’s still swollen ankle and Yixing gasped, swallowing another series of swear words that bubbled up in his throat.

“I have to tell her I can’t make it. It’s rude not to show,” he snapped back.

“It’s rude to snap at the people who help you,” Yifan snarked, but he rose to his feet, sliding his mask back into place. “Who is it? I will find them.”

“It’s a lady in a red dress. You can’t miss her, she brought a pet leopard,” Yixing said, chastised. He stroked the fluffy velvet on the chair, chewing his lip.

“Ah, Lady Qian. I know her. I‘ll let her know.” And Yifan was off, disappearing in the crowd in a swirl of black and gold.

That left Junmyeon crouched awkwardly by Yixing’s swollen ankle. He reached out a hand, adjusting the ice pack over Yixing’s ankle with a tender expression on his face.

“Does it hurt very much?” he asked, “it looks really bad.”

Yixing sank back into the backrest, grimacing when Junmyeon picked up the ice pack. He sighed when it was set back down, the chill seeping through the heat in the swollen lump.

“It’ll go down in a bit,” he said, “then I’ll be able to get a carriage.”

_And out of there._

But he did not say that aloud. It was bad enough that Junmyeon looked so forlorn.

“You could take mine,” Junmyeon said, “if you did not bring yours. I’m about ready to leave anyway.”

“Oh- I couldn’t- I mean it’s too much trouble,” Yixing said, fiddling with his bracelet.

“It’s not,” Junmyeon answered, “I can’t lift you though. We’ll have to wait for Yifan.”

“I can walk,” Yixing insisted, pushing himself upright.

He swung his leg off the ottoman despite Junmyeon’s protests. A spike of pain shot through him the moment his foot made contact with the swollen floor. Yixing wobbled, cursing under his breath.

“Just wait for Yifan, you stubborn man,” Junmyeon said, reaching for him. “You’ll make it worse.”

His grip was firm on Yixing’s shoulder and Yixing found that he could not take another step, even if he wanted to.

Reluctantly, he let Junmyeon guide him back into the chair. It was almost too intimate, the way Junmyeon crouched to help him put on his shoe.

“Is he trying to walk on his own?” Yifan’s voice drifted into his ears, the man sweeping into view. Even with a mask on, he had enough presence to turn heads wherever he went. There were four ladies standing near them, their fans fluttering madly but Yifan paid them no attention.

He went down onto one knee beside Yixing’s leg, producing another ice pack from the depths of his cloak.

“He’s always been stubborn,” Yifan said, setting the silk bag over Yixing’s ankle with a sharp look.

“Trust me, I’ve experienced it,” Junmyeon sighed, caressing Yixing’s shoulder. He had such a fond look on his face that Yixing’s stomach twisted.

If he said he did not miss either of them, he would be a liar. But his traitorous heart could not decide. That was the reason he left Yifan in the first place because he had fallen for Junmyeon while they were still together.

A very confused Yixing had called off their courtship, deciding to court Junmyeon instead because he thought that was what his heart wanted. But even when he was with him, he could not stop thinking about Yifan.

That led to his calling off of another courtship, one that he initiated because his foolish, stupid heart could not make up its mind.

“I- I should go home,” he blurted out, “I can get my own carriage-.”

Twin glares pierced into him and he wilted into the chair, turning the opal bracelet on his wrist round and round.

“I’ll call my carriage if you’ll take him to the courtyard,” Junmyeon said, “I’ve had enough of dancing.”

Yifan’s lips quirked up.

“I’ll be sorry that I missed a dance with you,” he said lowly, moving to Yixing’s side. With such little effort that it made Yixing’s stomach swoop, he scooped him off the chair.

Yixing flung his arms around his neck with a yelp, unconsciously moving closer.

“This is completely unnecessary,” he protested as he was carried out of the ballroom, heads turning as Junmyeon hurried ahead. “I walked fine on my own.”

“Sorry, Princess. I know just how clumsy you are and I’m not risking you actually breaking your ankle,” Yifan said, hefting him in his arms.

Yixing rolled his eyes, flexing his bad ankle. He grimaced and slumped back into Yifan’s arms in defeat.

“This is why I wear boots instead of stupid satin shoes,” he muttered under his breath, his heart fluttering when that earned him a smile from Yifan.

“For the record, you look beautiful,” Yifan said softly, as they arrived at the long marble stairs that led down to the sculpted fountain. Yixing’s heart skipped a beat.

“How’d you recognize me?” he asked, tightening his grip as Yifan started down the stairs. He was grateful for Yifan’s strength now, as he had forgotten about the godforsaken stairs. There was no way he would be able to make his way down without falling with his twisted ankle.

“I gave this silk to your mother as a present, Yixing. I didn’t think she’d use it to make you a _hanfu_. And your dancing. It was your dancing that gave you away,” Yifan answered with a wry smile.

A horse-drawn carriage came trotting around the fountain, light reflecting off the silver filigree painted on the doors.

A footman hopped off his perch, sweeping into a low bow.

“Your Highness,” he said to Junmyeon, who bowed back.

“We need to drop off a friend,” Junmyeon said, waving in their direction. Yixing hid his face into the crook of Yifan’s neck, swearing under his breath. He recognized the footman and he had no doubt that they would recognize him too.

“Of course, Your Highness,” the footman said, brows creasing. “He is injured?”

Junmyeon nodded, gesturing for the two of them to enter.

Yixing sank down into the plush velvet the moment he was set down, wincing when Yifan maneuvered him such that he took up one entire seat. He slouched against the window, the hem of his robes riding up to expose the heavy swelling.

“That’ll take a while to fix,” Junmyeon murmured when he entered, shooting Yixing a sympathetic look. “I’m so sorry, Xing.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Yixing started immediately, a hot flush taking over his face at the meaningful look Yifan shot him at the nickname. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Junmyeon’s fingers were cool against the hot skin when he grasped his leg, gently lifting it to slide a pillow under the injured ankle. The soft velvet made him shiver and he leaned back, barely able to bite down a gasp when the carriage jolted forward.

“Tired?” Yifan asked when he closed his eyes. His tone was so fond, Yixing had to remind himself that they were over.

He touched his bracelet, nodding.

“Poor baby,” Junmyeon said, “you’ve always hated balls.”

“Which is strange because you love dancing,” Yifan chimed in, sharing a look with Junmyeon.

Yixing opened his eyes, glaring.

“Don’t tag team me,” he said, “I’m injured.”

The last statement rose up into a whine that made both of them laugh, Junmyeon rising gracefully to sit next to him.

“But it’s such fun to tease and I haven’t seen you in almost a year.”

Fingers stroked through Yixing’s hair and he leaned into the touch, hungry for affection. He had not courted again after Junmyeon, much to his mother’s despair. This ball had been her idea. She had likely hoped Yixing would meet some intriguing young man or lady but that certainly would not happen now.

Not when Yixing had two men on his mind and could have neither of them.

Yixing turned his head, shivering when Yifan’s eyes bored into him. He fiddled with his rings again, light jumping off the opal on his wrist.

“Are you cold? You can have my coat,” Junmyeon said, concerned. He touched Yixing’s shoulder and he tensed.

“No. I’m fine,” Yixing answered, trying to find the distance between them again. He could not let himself fall. It had taken _so long_ just to put them both from his mind.

“We should talk,” Yifan said, his tone almost accusing. Of course, he would sense the odd tension at once. Yixing cursed under his breath.

“We _are_ talking,” he said quickly.”

“You know what I mean.” Yifan narrowed his eyes. Yixing turned away at once, grimacing when the carriage jolted over some rough stones.

His breath stopped.

Junmyeon’s face was inches from his, so close that he could feel every breath brushing over his lips. Dark eyes bored into his. He froze when a soft hand cupped his jaw, heart beating so fast that Yixing was certain it would leap out from inside his chest.

Yixing was drowning all over again. His blood roared in his ears when Junmyeon moved even closer, until their noses brushed.

“May I?” Junmyeon asked, his words barely above a whisper.

Yixing did not know where he found the words but he did, nodding his consent.

The world melted away. There were only Junmyeon and his petal-soft lips. He could smell the sea on him, a salty tang that made his heart pound even louder in his ears.

A hand slid into his hair, a tongue licking over his lower lip and a soft moan spilt from his lips. Blush painted his cheeks when Junmyeon pulled away and he chased after him, a whine slipping out before he could stop himself.

A thumb rubbed over his cheek and he leaned into it almost unconsciously. Junmyeon’s smile was fond when he backed away, moving across the carriage to switch places with Yifan.

“I-,” Yixing stuttered, trying to catch his breath. He barely had a chance to before Yifan was swooping in, big hands cupping his cheeks.

Yifan was stronger, rougher but it was no less passionate. Sparks flew behind Yixing’s eyelids and he could only hold on, hands flying to grasp at Yifan’s biceps. He was certain his heart was going to jump out of his chest by the time the two of them were done with him.

“I knew you still had feelings for me,” Yifan murmured, pulling back.

Yixing gaped at him, wide-eyed.

The carriage clattered to a stop before anyone could speak and the door was pulled open, a man poking his head in.

“Welcome home, Your Highness,” he said, opening the door all way. He bowed, grey robes fluttering in the wind. “Your mother is waiting in the parlour.”

Yixing made to stand. He yelped, forgetting his foot. His knees buckled when pain exploded through his nerves, Yifan lunging to catch him before he fell.

“Clumsy,” Yifan scolded, righting him.

“It hurts,” he whined, grasping at Yifan’s arm.

“Of course it hurts,” Junmyeon said fondly, rising to his feet. He nodded at the footman, his hand warm when it wrapped around Yixing’s wrist.

Yixing found himself being supported on both sides, practically carried out of the carriage. He stared up at the multiple flights of stone steps, dismay flooding through his chest. There was no way in hell he would be able to make it up all those steps.

Not for the first time, he wished his ancestors had chosen to build their home on flatter ground.

“I’ll take you up,” Yifan said, squatting. Yixing could only put his arms around his neck, allowing himself to be piggybacked up the long flight of stairs to where his mother was waiting.

“God, you are an idiot,” she exclaimed at the first sight of him. “Thank you for bringing him home, gentlemen.”

Yixing rolled his eyes, trying to hide his red face behind his sleeve when Yifan put him down. His mother yanked him towards her and he stumbled, yelping.

“Ma! That hurts!”

“Serves you right for being clumsy,” his mother scolded, before turning on her best smile. “Would you like to come inside for some tea, boys? I’m sorry you had to go out of your way to bring my idiotic son home.”

Yixing huffed, allowing himself to be shuffled off. He shuddered to think what his mother would say to both Yifan and Junmyeon. She had met them before and adored them both.

Even after they had separated, she talked about them. Often singing their praises and lamenting Yixing’s loss and therefore, their family’s loss.

Bolts of pain shot up Yixing’s ankle when the physician, a kindly old man prodded at the lump. He bit down hard on his lower lip, swallowing the grimace.

“Some acupuncture before I wrap it up will do you some good,” the man said, rubbing at Yixing’s ankle. Yixing swallowed hard.

His ankle was laid over a nice firm pillow, little sparks of pain dancing down to his foot. The physician pulled out a roll of needles that clinked against each other and Yixing turned away at once.

They pricked gently, like ant bites into his skin. His leg looked like a porcupine by the time the physician was done, covered In gleaming silver needles.

He was sent off to bed, far too early with more instructions to rest his leg. Yixing tossed and turned around in his bed, hyper-aware of Yifan and Junmyeon in the same estate.

He wondered what they thought of the whole situation. His mother would certainly not let a chance like this go. She was likely playing matchmaker again.

Sleep finally claimed him, the darkness giving birth to strange dreams of Yifan flying, Yixing and Junmyeon clutched in his arms.

His heart was still in his chest, the fresh cold air burning his lungs. It was a peaceful dream, so unlike the erratic way Yixing’s heart beat with Junmyeon’s arms around him.

The banging woke him up.

Yixing groaned, turning over in his bed. There was a strange shadow over his floor as if something was blocking out the sun outside. His doors slammed open before he could even call out and he was assaulted by a wave of perfumed waterlilies and jasmine.

“Zhang Yixing. It’s time to get up.” His mother’s voice pierced his eardrums, too sharp, too loud for the hour.

Yixing grumbled in protest, huddling back down under his blankets. The shadow vanished abruptly, sunlight blinding him.

“Get up, Yixing. You have guests,” his mother said. Her robes swished over the wooden floor when she walked across the room to pull open the windows.

Yixing swung his legs over the bed just as his mother returned, critical gaze travelling over his body. He yelped when he stood, clasping at his mother’s arm for dear life.

“Idiot,” his mother said, nudging him back to the bed.

“You said get up,” Yixing answered, pouting. “Besides, this was your fault-.”

He quailed under his mother’s glare, finishing the sentence under his breath. “If you’d let me wear my boots, I wouldn’t have twisted my ankle.”

“If you weren’t so clumsy, you wouldn’t have turned your ankle either,” his mother retorted with a hard rap to his head. “Now get up. Two very lovely young men are in the parlour and you’re already late.”

Yixing glowered as the doors swung open, two manservants scurrying Into the room.

“Your bath has been drawn, Milord,” they chorused, bowing deeply.

“Be quick. It’s rude to keep them waiting,” his mother said, sweeping out of the room in a choking wave of water lilies and jasmine.

Yixing barely restrained himself from sticking his tongue out after her on the account of his manservants.

Due to his injury, the physician had forbidden him from the hot springs. His mother had fully agreed, afraid that Yixing would slip and injure himself further.

So he was relegated to a wooden bathtub.

Yixing mourned the privacy loss as he shed his robes, the servants whisking them away at once. He submerged himself, trying not to think about the guests his mother was no doubt entertaining in the parlour.

There was no doubt in his mind who was sitting in his home right then, waiting for his appearance.

The thought was enough for him to drag his feet getting out of the tub. As a servant sudsed up his back, the other hurried into the room with two different robes in hand.

“Does Milord have a preference?” he asked shyly, holding the robes up higher so that Yixing could see the embroidery on the silk.

Yixing squinted at the jade green one. It had swallows and cranes embroidered in soft reds and whites and was not one he recognized.

“Is that new?” he asked, slumping against the tub’s walls. The sponge on his back moved down one shoulder and he sighed.

“It is, Milord. Your mother had this made recently,” the servant said. He hesitated before continuing. “It would please her greatly if you wore this.”

Yixing bit his lip, stroking one hand through the water. The other robe was his favourite sky blue and he shuddered at the mere thought of parading himself like his mother wanted him to.

But it was the smartest choice If he wanted his mother to hold her tongue.

“The new one then,” he said, dipping his shoulders into the water.

The servants hurried to dry him when he stepped out, dripping water all over the floor. He was hurried to a chair, where two more servants appeared to brush out his hair and paint his lips with rouge.

Yixing waved away the heavier makeup, only allowing a touch of pink to his lips. The inner robes were slid on and tied before the light silk was draped over his shoulders.

It felt like water against his skin as they fastened it. The pale green made him look even paler than usual, the pink on his lips standing starkly.

They held up two pairs of earrings, one with a single water drop on each end and the other, Yixing’s regular hoops.

“I’ve never seen those before,” Yixing said, pointing at the drops, bewildered. He could not remember when those had gotten into his collection and he had a small one compared to his mother’s.

“They were a gift, I believe. Your mother brought them in a few days ago,” the servant said, “you will wear these then?”

Yixing shrugged and the delicate water drops were hooked onto his ears, long chains swinging.

His heart thudded wildly in his chest as the servants ushered him out, pushing a carved cane that he was positive once belonged to his grandfather into his hand. It was heavy in his hand and he struggled to lift it as he walked across cobbled stones, deliberately taking his time to enjoy the jasmine blooming.

“Your mother will not be pleased with your tardiness,” his servant said, amused when Yixing stopped to rest his foot.

“I’m sure,” Yixing said, heart rising to his throat as the paned doors were slid open. His cane made the wooden floor boards rattle as he crossed them.

The carved fu on the door became very interesting while the servants scurried to inform his mother and guests of his arrival. He suddenly missed his father. At least he could keep his mother in check.

But alas, Father was away on business and Yixing would have to deal with her crazy on his own.

The servants bowed him into the room, his cane thunking awkwardly on the boards as he walked. His heart rate picked up when both Yifan and Junmyeon rose to help him into his seat, grip on his cane becoming white knuckled.

“You look beautiful,” Yifan blurted, his cheeks pinking almost immediately. Yixing went red, folding his hands primly in his lap. Yifan always had the worst brain to mouth filter.

“The green suits you well,” Junmyeon supplied when they were seated. “I’ve never seen you in green before.”

Yixing’s cheeks flushed and he looked around the room, only to find a tea set on the table and Mother nowhere to be seen.

The door slammed shut so sharply that they all jumped jumped, spinning around in shock. A servant’s shadow was visible for the briefest moment before it was gone, leaving the three of them alone in the room.

Yixing sucked in a breath, blowing it out in a rush of air.

Of course. This was his mother’s doing.

“You look like you’re about to faint,” Yifan commented, moving to the chair beside him. His large hand wrapped around Yixing’s shoulder, warm through the thin fabric of his robes.

“Here, have tea,” Junmyeon said, pouring them all a cup.

“I’m fine,” Yixing said, settling into the nearest couch. He did feel faint, despite his claims, the world swimming before his eyes. Though whether that was due to nerves or hunger had yet to be determined.

Something in the room squeaked and they all turned towards Yifan with questioning eyes.

Yifan’s cheeks flushed at the attention and he pulled aside his robes, revealing a snow white bunny that had somehow made itself comfortable in his lap.

“Why do you have my rabbit?” Yixing asked, temporarily distracted from the nerves. The rabbit squeaked again, nestling its head against Yifan’s abdomen.

“It followed me up. I couldn’t just leave it,” Yifan muttered, stroking his fingers through the rabbit’s dense fur.

He scooped up the bunny, holding it to his face. The rabbit snuffled, touching its jellybean nose to his before cooing happily.

Yixing’s heart melted.

“That must be Mianmian,” he said, distinctively remembering the one bunny that could not get enough of Yifan when they had been courting. That rabbit followed him _everywhere_.

Yifan looked back at the rabbit with a smile. He kissed the tip of its nose before setting it back into his lap.

“Why are you here?” Yixing asked, reaching for his teacup. The drops on his ears swung as he took a sip of his tea, his stomach growling. “It’s rather early, is it not?”

“We came with a proposal,” Junmyeon answered before Yifan could speak, his eyes trailing over Yixing’s body. His gaze lingered for a moment on the water drops.

Yixing’s heart thudded in his chest. He touched the drops, meeting Junmyeon’s eyes.

“Don’t tell me you tricked me into accepting courtship,” he said weakly.

“Of course not!” Junmyeon replied, eyes widening. “They are merely a gift.”

“So are the robes,” Yifan put in, still stroking Mianmian. He had a very thoughtful look on his face.

“So this _is_ about courtship,” Yixing said, setting down his cup. “And about last night.”

Yifan and Junmyeon glanced at each other, sharing a look that Yixing could not decipher.

“We’ve been courting, for a while,” Yifan admitted finally. He looked bashful, his cheeks tinted pink and Yixing had to admit it was absolutely adorable. “But there was always something missing.”

Yixing recoiled, narrowing his eyes at him. How _dare_ he imply-.

“Not like that,” Junmyeon rushed to assure him at once, eyes widening. His lips curved briefly, as if amused that Yixing would rush to his defense. Yixing fluffed out his robes, huffing under his breath.

“Yifan knows, Xing. He knows how I feel about sex.” Junmyeon took a deep breath, placing his hand in Yifan’s lap. Yifan took it at once, rubbing it between his hands. Mianmian the bunny squeaked and hopped out, nuzzling at their entwined fingers.

“Oh,” Yixing said numbly. “Then what?”

“We both missed you,” Yifan said, “it’s not just the sex, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’d be perfectly content never bedding anyone again.”

The look in his eyes when he glanced down at Junmyeon was so fond that it made Yixing’s heart ache. It ached even more when Yifan brought up their hands, pressing a tender kiss to Junmyeon’s knuckles.

“Oh,” Yixing said again. That was all he seemed capable of saying in that moment.

Junmyeon leaned forward, never releasing Yifan’s hand. His expression was earnest.

“We debated if we should contact you,” he said, “considering our parting was amicable.”

“But?” Yixing raised his eyebrows. His hands itched for something to toy with and he settled for turning his opal bracelet round and round on his wrist, the metal jingling softly.

As if it had sensed his restlessness, Mianmian hopped out of Yifan’s lap, scurrying over to climb into his. Yixing smoothed his fingers over the rabbit’s back, rubbing its ears gently. Mianmian cooed at him, turning round to nibble at the tips of his fingers.

“I didn’t know if you wanted to hear from me, Yixing. You seemed so… distraught when we called off the courtship.”

“Of course I did,” Yixing blurted out. He clapped his hands over his mouth, shocked by his own outburst. “But I couldn’t answer you. Not with how I treated you.”

“You did not treat me badly, Yixing. You did the right thing, breaking off the courtship when you thought you no longer loved me,” Junmyeon said, his tone patient. He glanced up at Yifan, who leaned down, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

“But I still-,” Yixing said in a very small voice.

“Still love me? I know,” Junmyeon replied, his lips twitching.

“But we’re skipping ahead,” Yifan said, “will you hear our proposal?”

Yixing nodded, scratching Mianmian’s head. He was gratified to hear the rabbit purr into his robes, its warm nose pushing into his hand.

“A combined courtship between the three of us,” Yifan said. He chewed his lip, looking more nervous than Yixing had ever seen him. “Your mother said it would be good for our families as well.”

“Of course she did.” Yixing rolled his eyes. “She never stopped mourning the loss of either of you.”

Both of them smiled, the weight rolling off their shoulders. Junmyeon let go of Yifan’s hand, reaching to take Yixing’s instead. It was warm and familiar and it only made Yixing want to hold him closer.

“All the details will have to be hashed out with our parents of course,” Yifan said, leaning back in his chair. His smile was so wide that they could all see his gums.

Yixing’s heart skipped a beat. He nodded slowly, bringing Junmyeon’s hands up to his lips. The movement jostled Mianmian, who only readjusted, nestling against Yixing’s abdomen.

“I supposed a courtship gift is in order,” he said, finally allowing himself to smile.

Some might count Yixing unlucky for having to suffer through the humiliation of twisting his ankle in the middle of a dance but he certainly would not consider himself unlucky at all. Not when that unfortunate accident brought his two loves back into his life, in the most beautiful way possible.


End file.
